Chapter 4

FOUR

Nathan

Alert:

Search term "Nathan West" mentioned one time online:

Holy Villain Era, Batman! Former Do-Gooder Nathan West Builds Lair on Sketchy Cove. You'll Never Believe What He's Up to Now!

I sit at my desk, staring at my laptop, flicking through Fallon Mae's latest hit piece on me while sipping whiskey, the "never again" promises I made myself this morning overpowered by the indignation of yet another shitty article from a woman who sounds like she hates me. My head throbs from the growing realization that I owe Mina Blake an apology after our meeting this morning. Probably Bancroft too, though I think Mina took the brunt of my frustration.

What would Fallon say if she knew I was home alone tonight, instead of out with another "dazzling and spectacular" starlet?

In my modest house?

At my modest desk?

Worrying what my interior designer thinks of me instead of living some insane lifestyle of the rich, famous, and potentially evil?

Does that sound like a man entering his villain era? Not to me. And I should know. I've been spending time with that type a lot lately.

What would Fallon say if she knew all those nights out were calculated moves to secure donations to expand the Reversal of Fortune Foundation, the charity I've worked at since high school? What would she say if she knew the women were for Dom? That I've deemed myself damn near celibate after being taken advantage of by Blossom? Would she still condemn me? Or would she be more understanding? Or maybe my famous parents negate the fact that I'm a human being with feelings and imperfections.

I know Fallon's type. She grew up poor and resents all the opportunity I had, that she didn't. And you know, I could understand that resentment, if she channeled it into something positive. A drive for more. A desire to better herself or, better yet, the world around her. Instead, she turns everything I do into a failure, publishes it for the world to see…and sounds gleeful while doing it.

My phone buzzes and I grab it out of habit. I'm not in the mood to talk to people tonight. I'm not in the mood for much of anything tonight. I almost put it right back down on my desk, but Mina Blake's name catches my attention. The hot mess express I caught pep-talking herself this morning. It would have been cute if it hadn't been so hopeless. Endearing, if she hadn't immediately lumped me into a box labeled "other" with that comment about a man like me deserving to get what I want.

There's something about the woman that makes me…what?

She sets off my internal alarms…but why?

Something tells me I should stay far, far away from her.

Despite that being true, curiosity wins and I read Mina's message anyway, one that came into the group chat with Benjamin, the architect my cousin Mason recommended after giving me a dissertation on the wonderful, up-and-coming interior designer he adores working with.

"What the fuck?" I murmur, bringing the screen closer to stare at a text talking about crushes, drinks, and biting asses. My mind instantly supplies an image of Mina's luscious rear end and I chase it away with a swig of whiskey.

"Hello, hot mess express," I whisper, reading the text one more time before sending a single question mark in response.

It's not like she left me a lot of options with that one.

Seconds later, my phone buzzes with a call from Mina. I let it ring once. Twice. A third time. Once more and it'll go to voicemail, which is definitely the best outcome.

I accept the call at the last minute.

"First of all, please let me apologize for my unprofessional behavior," Mina says after I answer. "I can assure you; this is not typical of me."

Her words are too bright. Her optimism forced. She's panicking, and…drunk?

"And second of all?" I prompt, then cringe. That came out harsher than I intended. I'm swimming in uncomfortable waters here. Dom knows how to handle situations like this. Not me. I shouldn't have answered the phone.

"I, uh…" There's a long pause followed by a deep sigh and then, "I have a favor to ask you."

"A favor?"

"Yeah. Yes. Um. A favor. I was wondering if you could pretend that text was for you." Mina's words are slurred and fever pitched. They hit me hard enough that I pull the phone away from my ear.

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?" I ask, slowly.

"That text. The one in the group chat. I didn't mean to send it and it's going to create a lot of trouble and if you could just?—"

"Ahh, yes. The ‘I didn't mean to send the text' chestnut." I lean forward, elbows resting on my desk, intrigued. So, Mina has a crush on Benjamin. Something about the thought of them together bugs me, though I couldn't say why. Probably the lack of professionalism.

Mina half-sighs, half-groans. "No, really. This was truly an accident. I'm having drinks with my friend and I was talking about how awful our meeting went and?—"

"You thought our meeting was awful?"

Damn it. I knew I owed her an apology. I sip my whiskey, hoping it'll burn away whatever is making my stomach twist and turn and sink into my feet.

"Yes! Oh my God it was so awful!" Mina blows a puff of air into the phone. "You're supposed to be my dream client, and you were so rude. But only to me. For some reason you were super nice to Benjamin and?—"

"And that made you want to admit your crush on him in a group chat and invite him for drinks so you can bite his ass." I sit back and rest my ankle on my knee, ice clinking in my glass as Mina Blake, Hot Mess Express, huffs a sigh.

"You have no idea how embarrassed I am right now. I swear to you, this is not like me, and all I want from Benjamin is a professional relationship. So, could you please pretend that text was for you? I know it's a big ask, but…" There's the murmur of another voice in the distance and Mina grunts in frustration. "Shh. Damn it. Leave me alone."

"Which is it?" I ask, a half-grin slowly lifting one cheek. "Should I leave you alone? Or pretend that text was for me?"

"I wasn't telling you to leave me alone. I was talking to my friend who seems to think I'm making a hot mess of this entire conversation." There's a quick whispered argument that has me laughing.

God, it feels good to laugh.

I really do need to do that more.

And I've done it twice in one day thanks to Mina Blake, Hot Mess Express—even her friend agrees.

"I bet I'd like this friend of yours. We seem to think along the same lines."

"Of course you would. She's awesome and she loves you. But you're distracting me from the point. Again. Please. Please . Just respond to my text like it was for you."

"Now why would I do that, Hot Mess?"

"Because I've followed Benjamin's career for a long time and I'm kind of in awe of working with him and my friend decided to play Cupid but I dropped my phone and, you know what? None of that matters. What matters is that Benjamin and I will work really well together and you're going to love the house we come up with for you."

"Will you be biting his ass when he designs my home? I won't love having that image in my head every time I walk through the door."

Mina groans and the sound goes straight to my dick. Okay. Was not expecting that. It must not be as big a fan of this celibacy idea as I am.

"I know I'm making a terrible impression," Mina says, "but please, hear me out. I may be a few too many. I mean... I've had a little drunk. I mean…"

"Easy now. Don't hurt yourself."

"And this isn't like me at all. I'm really excited about this project, and I would hate to lose an opportunity like this because Benjamin gets the wrong idea from a joke he wasn't supposed to be part of. Believe me, I regret everything that's happened in the last twenty minutes and I swear to you, this is not typical of me."

"As you've said."

"If you could please pretend that text is for you," Mina continues, as if she didn't hear me, "I promise I will do everything in my power to make this process as smooth as silk from this point forward."

I close my eyes and pinch my forehead, my dick enjoying the phrase ‘smooth as silk' more than I'd like. "Are you done?"

"Yes. I think so." Mina takes a deep breath. "Well, no, there's one more thing I should say. I'd like to thank you for your time and consideration," she finishes proudly while laughter twinkles in the background. "I do not sound like an overly formal email, thank you very much," she whisper-hisses before returning to her normal voice. "Will you please help me?"

My impulsive answer is yes. This woman is asking for my help, and it would take very little effort on my part to give. But these are the situations I'm trying to avoid, the kind that end with me being taken advantage of in ways I never saw coming because I'm blind to narcissism, sociopathy, and ulterior motives.

So I grit my teeth and give an answer that makes me instantly uncomfortable. "No."

"No?" Mina sounds as appalled as I feel.

"No." I switch the phone to my other ear. "I've made it my official policy to leave hot messes alone to do their thing. Effective immediately."

"You are so incredibly disappointing. I know, I know," she says to whoever's listening to her end of the call. "It's his villain era. You're right. I should have known better."

Fucking villain era. The words tighten my jaw, my fists, my throat. Did the whole world read Fallon Mae's article this morning? "Good night, Miss Blake," I say, sorry I answered the call.

"Wait!"

I pause, finger hovering over the ‘end' button despite myself.

"Did you hang up? Oh, man! He hung up." Mina sounds so crestfallen, I put the phone back to my ear.

"I'm waiting, as requested."

"I'll…I'll drop my fee by ten percent."

The argument on the other end of the phone increases by a decibel or two. Mina's shrieking friend confirms my suspicion. Money is tight for Ms. Blake.

Old Nathan would tell Mina paying me isn't necessary, but what should New Nathan say? She's so ready to cast me in the role of the villain, I'd hate to disappoint her more than I already have.

I pinch my forehead and say the first thing that comes to mind. "Make it ninety and I'll consider."

Good God. Did that really come out of my mouth?

"Ninety percent?" Mina sounds appropriately offended. "I think you know exactly what to do with that offer. And I sincerely doubt you would have said anything like that to Benjamin."

"I doubt Benjamin would find himself in this position."

"I need this money, Mr. West," Mina continues, ignoring my game winning point. "And more than that, I'm worth this money."

"What do you need more?" asks the villain. "The money? Or a chance to convince Benjamin Bancroft it's my ass you're drooling over instead of his?"

There's a long pause and then, "You really are The Prince of Darkness, aren't you?"

She sounds even more disappointed, and I don't like the way it feels, but I shut it down by throwing back the rest of my whiskey. If it's a villain she wants, it's a villain she gets.

"Take it or leave it, Miss Blake."

"Fifty percent," she counters, despite a less than quiet argument from her friend.

"Seventy."

"Sixty."

"Done. Have a better day, Hot Mess." I end the call and stare at the group chat, chewing my lip as I reread Mina's text. Who types something like that into a chat as a joke? And worse, who accidentally hits send while dropping a phone?

Sitting back, I stare at the ceiling while I think, then grin as I come up with the perfect response to earn the sixty percent discount I just negotiated on Miss Blake's interior design services.

Dear Hot Mess Express… As I've mentioned before, discussing your lifelong crush on me is inappropriate, especially in group chats.

Let's move this to a private thread.

Chuckling to myself, I close my laptop and head to bed, my mood inexplicably brighter than it was twenty minutes ago.